Chain of Misfortune?
by Redawilo
Summary: What started as a bad night after a crushing break-up, turns out to be a long chain of...misfortune?
1. Chapter 1

This is only the beginning, and I dunno how long it'll turn out to be. All I know is that this will end up being quite long. (I have this "chain" all figured out from this start to it's distant end.)

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There was a layer of snow covering the ground; and it still fell, and it looked like it would continue too until late into the night. As it was, at only nine o' clock, America was quite ready for the day to be over. He gave a sigh as he realized his house was still quite far away, and that it would be empty tonight. Not exactly something he was wanting. An idea came to his head, maybe England would be home? He decided it was worth a shot.

He found his way through the freezing cold to the older nation's doorstep. With a shaking and cold hand, he knocked on the door. He gave a shiver as a breeze swept past him, and he hoped the man was home, and still up. Luckily for him, he heard the rattle of locks being undone and the familiar Brit cracked the door open to see who it was. He made a strangled noise of surprise when he saw the shivering American.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Why are you out this late at night!?" he shouted.

America grinned down at him, although it only seemed half-hearted. "It's a long story. Can I come in?"

"It's 'May I come in?'" England corrected, but stepped aside and held the door open for him anyway.

America hurried inside and England closed the door behind him. Upon turning to see what was up with his former colony, the older nation quickly and unexpectedly found himself caught up inside of America's arms. The latter had his face buried in the crook of England's neck, and his whole body was still shivering. Slowly, awkwardly, England reached out and wrapped his own arms around the other man's waist. He could vaguely hear the young nation sniffling, and his breathing was slightly erratic. He was crying.

"America, are you alright?" England asked tentatively.

"H-he…he just…" America had to take a deep breath. "He just dumped me! Russia dumped me for China!" he cried out, his body now wracking with sobs.

England went silent, not quite sure how to comfort the sobbing nation. Sure, he and Russia had been "dating" for several months now, but England had never been sure how America seemed to think they were compatible. America was always so high spirited and full of vigor when it came to his poorly thought up plans to solve any problem, global or otherwise. Russia, however, always wore a cheerful smile, but just below that calm exterior was a black heart buried in thick fog and frigid temperatures. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down England's spine. Really, America must be a complete idiot not to have noticed that side of Russia. Then again, thinking on it for a moment, England supposed this wasn't too far from the truth.

"Hey, England…" America sniffled, breaking said man from his thoughts. "Do you mind if I…if I stay with you tonight?"

England choked up a moment, before pulling his mind out from the gutter. Really, he had to stop spending so much time with France…Not that he ever spent time with that wine freak willingly! With a sigh he replied, "You may as well. Your house IS pretty far away."

"Thanks." America said, letting him go at last. He dug his fists into his eyes in a poor attempt to hide the few tears that remained there.

"Go and take a shower or something before you catch a cold. I'll bring you a change of clothes." England told him, tearing his arms away from the man now that he was done crying into his shoulder, although his cheeks were a light shade of pink. "You can use the guest room. I'll fix it up for you."

"Actually I was thinking-" America began, but stopped short as he realized how abrupt that had been.

England stopped his ascent of the stairs and turned to face him. "You were thinking…what?" he asked, scowling ever so slightly.

America looked down at his feet shyly. It was very much unlike him to behave this way. England waited, hiding his impatience as America seemed to be fighting himself over what he should say. At last the younger let out a long sigh and looked back up at his former guardian.

"I was thinking that I could, that is if you're okay with it of course, that I could...erm…"

"America, why is it that when I WANT you to talk that you decide that you've forgotten the language that I gave you?" England stated, scowling.

America flushed at little at this. "Hey! This isn't exactly something I just say to anyone! Give me a break here! It's embarrassing!" He slapped a hand over his mouth as his elder raised an enormous eyebrow at him. He fidgeted as England descended the few steps he had climbed. He watched as the other approached him, a hand on each of his hips and still scowling at him. For a moment America almost caught himself wanting to say that it was the cutest thing he ever saw. He mentally slapped himself.

"Then just what WAS it you wanted to ask me?" he asked. America jumped at how close the other decided to stand.

Taking a step back, America held up his hands, as if that would defend him from England's accusing stares. "It was nothing! I'll just go and get my shower now, thanks!"

America made to move around England, but his arm was caught halfway through his stride. He was taken off guard as he found himself being pulled down and his lips being captured by the other's. When released, America saw that England was just as red in the face as he felt. The shorter man's green eyes were turned away in genuine embarrassment. America corrected his earlier thought. THIS was the cutest thing he ever saw.

"I-idiot…I know you better than anyone else." England stated with some difficulty, hand still on the other nation's arm. "Now tell me what you were going to say."

America smirked, having found himself a new wave of courage. He wrapped his free arm around his former guardian's waist and leant down just a little to rest his forehead against England's. "I was thinking that rather than having you make up the guest room, I could just stay in yours."

England flushed a deeper shade of red; despite the fact that he knew he had been the one to make America say that. For a moment his instinct to hit the man before him sparked up, something that had come from dealing with France for way too long. Thankfully for America, it was extinguished just as quickly when said man decided he ought to return the kiss from earlier.

Neither men noticed as the bushes outside the window rustled; nor when a blond-haired someone climbed out of them and ran off into the freezing cold night. A smirk was present on his bearded features.

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And thus ends part 1!

Reviews are much loved! ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2 of the chain! This time it's a bit short for my liking, but oh well. I didn't want to add the next "link in this part, since it would throw off the flow of the link after that. So you'll have to live with it. (Luckily, I've decided on a slightly irregular way of updating this that will be explained in part 3!)

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"…And would you believe it if I said that Amerique started kissing him at that moment?" France laughed. "I knew there was something between those two. The way they always get into little squabbles with each other, all just to hide how they really felt. Honestly. And I doubt they've yet to learn that in the face of love, everything is perfectly legitimate."

A half-listening Spain blinked at him with a mixture of surprise and worry. While he liked that the other man had decided to pay him a visit, he wasn't sure if he had wanted to hear every detail about what he had seen transpire between the English and American nations while he had been waiting outside said English nation's window the night before for the perfect time to break in and pounce on him. He decided it was best to just set aside how creepy his friend was. "Hm…I suppose it isn't entirely surprising. As you said, they do get into a lot of fights. Although it makes me wonder just how close they've been, since America DID turn to England almost immediately."

France looked thoughtful. "Yes…now that you mention it; that WAS a quick change. If it were me I'm sure you and the others would find it quite normal." He sighed in exasperation. "But of course even I am not without a heart. If I were to be rejected in the way Amerique was, I would be spending an entire week in anguish!" He put a hand over his heart and looked off into some unknown distance. "Oh to be so young and able to bounce back so quickly from such a brutal end to one's love!"

Spain had once again opted to ignore most of France's speech. He had decided this was the best course of action several years ago when he had gone on a long-winded tale of how a set of twin boys (who were in the primes of their lives and had the bodies of the angels, as France had put it) had turned him down after he had courted them so carefully for an entire month. Although Spain had wanted to tell him that he didn't need to hear every detail about every elaborate thing he had done for them, France had ignored him for the length of his tale. As it was, the French nation had already spent the past twenty minutes talking about how Alfred must really be a strong nation to withstand such a blow. He didn't even seem to realize that half of what he said was in French, and that Spain didn't understand a word of it.

"Il est si triste! And to think that if I had known how they felt about one another beforehand, I could have saved poor Amerique from all that pain!" he shouted enthusiastically as he finished.

"Either way, it's nice to know that they're together now." Spain stated, smiling.

France nodded to himself. "Yes, it is. I am glad that you understand the woes of having one's heart broken. Now then…" he stole a sideways glance at the Spanish nation who was sitting beside him. "…I was hoping that because my own heart is currently broken in two, as I have just been unwittingly turned down by Angleterre, perhaps a certain friend of mine would be willing to help me?"

Not even skipping a beat, Spain jumped to his feet, suddenly looking like he had just remembered something. "That's right! I promised Romano I would visit him today! I'm sorry France, but I really must get going!"

And just like he hurried out of the room; leaving France to feel that he had just been rejected…again.

*****

"So you're telling me that France had seen America and England making-out last night…why?" Romano couldn't help but ask.

Spain was busily eating at a raw tomato that he had dug out of the younger nation's fridge. "I'm not too sure." He admitted. "I suppose it's because France was making a big deal about it." He smiled at his littler friend.

Romano raised an eyebrow. "Did you have any other reason for coming here?" he asked. "I was about to go take a nap when you barged in."

The other man seemed to brighten up at this. "Oh! In that case let me join you! After all, France DID try coming onto me, and that's an experience that no one should be made to live with!" He made an attempt to hug Romano, who all but shoved him across the kitchen.

"No way you bastard!" he shouted. "You are NOT sleeping with me!" His efforts to keep the Spanish nation at bay failed and he found himself buried in the other's chest. His cheeks turned as red as the half-eaten tomato in the other's hand.

"Aw, at least let me stay here, Lovi~" Spain sang, nuzzling the boy.

"F-fine!" the Italian sputtered, trying, and failing, to hide his embarrassment. "Just keep your hands to yourself while I'm asleep!"

"Of course." Spain smiled, although there was a minuscule tone of disappointment in his voice. He released the younger nation. "Then I suppose I could do something useful. How about I start making us something to eat for dinner? You could even help me when you wake up!"

Romano grumbled something about not even wanting the other man in his house, but agreed. It was probably the only way to make the stupid Spaniard stay at a safe distance while he was unconscious. And he did have to admit, although not out loud, that having to deal with France could be pretty traumatizing. As he lay down on his couch in the living room, a thought occurred to him; he'll have to warn his little brother that said pervert seems to be looking for somebody to molest.

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Amerique = America in French

"Il est si triste!" = "It is so sad!" in French, according to the translator I used. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Angleterre = England in French

As before, reviews are loved!


	3. Chapter 3

HAHA! The next link! And this time it is of a length that is much for satisfactory to me. This'll be the last one until next week, as I'll be posting these in clumps at the end of every week. So next week you might get one part, or you could get twelve. It all depends on how productive I am. =D

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Romano awoke from his nap and decided he'd better warn his little brother as quickly as possible. Since dinner was still a little ways away, he figured he may as well take care of that task immediately. After dodging around another hug from Spain, the Italian nation set out on the all-too familiar route to Germany's house. Not that he ever went there willingly, it was just that he always had to go there to fetch his younger brother home whenever the work piled up to the point where it was threatening to eat their office. He had always thought himself lucky that he didn't have to deal with it all alone like most of the other nations.

The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when he approached the German's front door. Already he could hear the booming voice of said nation yelling from within. He waited a moment or two for the noise to die down before ringing the doorbell; he had learned his lesson earlier when he interrupted said yelling and ended up getting an arm full of crying younger (and NAKED) brother and an angry Germany to avoid. He'd never say it out loud, but Germany scared the daylights out of him when he was angry. It was a wonder his little brother could be so attached to the potato-bastard.

"At least put your pants on before you come out from your nap!" the German nation shouted from within. Romano could've sworn he hear a loud cackle just before the door was opened by a very annoyed Germany. He seemed rather surprised to find Romano there. "Oh, hello Romano. Have you come to take Italy home already?"

"Shut up! Our work may pile up quickly, but not THAT quickly! I just want to talk to my little brother!" Romano snapped, feeling his blood boil at the mere sight of the other nation.

Germany didn't ask anything more. He stood aside and let the other Italian enter his home. Almost immediately he was confronted (more like tackled) by his hyper little brother Italy. Romano tried not to smile as he and his brother kiss each other on the cheek. It doesn't work to well, as the corners of his mouth are traitorous in that way.

"Brother! What are you doing here, ve!?" Italy asks, leading Romano by the hand deeper into Germany's house.

As those words are spoken, the elder brother remembers his reason for being there. "I came to warn you. That wine bastard France is…well he's being himself. More so than normal right now." Italy tilted his head to one side in puzzlement. Romano tried to think of a way to explain it. This proved mostly fruitless. "Never mind. Just stay away from him for a few days, okay?"

"Ve~ But France-nii-chan has always been so nice to me…"

Romano gritted his teeth. "I know, same with me. But that's why you should stay away from him. It's…not normal to be that nice."

The younger Italian nation seemed confused, but nodded nonetheless. "Does that mean I should stay away from Germany and Prussia too?" he smiled happily. "They're always really nice to me! Except for when Germany's being scary…which is a lot…"

"Did I hear my name?" came the voice of Prussia as he poked his head into the room. Had Germany been there, he would have immediately scolded him. As it was he seemed perfectly content to not be wearing a shirt.

Italy perked up at the sight of him. "Ve~ Hello Prussia! I was just saying that you're always nice to me."

"Of course I'm always nice to you, Ita-chan." He stated happily, approaching the boy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Romano couldn't help but let out the smallest of growls. "Do you mind? I'm trying to talk to Veneziano."

Prussia grinned. "Nope. Go ahead; I won't stop you from talking."

Even Italy could tell this wasn't exactly what Romano had meant. He frowned as his brother was rapidly losing his temper. "Would you just leave us alone for two minutes you bastard!?" he shouted.

Luckily, Germany chose that moment to yell at his brother as well, demanding that he come and help him with something. Sulking, Prussia released the still-naked Italy and went to see what his not-so-awesome little brother wanted. Romano mumbled under his breath, watching him leave. For some reason, his cheeks had turned a light pink. Italy decided not to ask, lest he anger him more.

"So um, ve~ what else did you want to tell me?" Italy asked, hoping to calm him down a bit.

Romano had to think a moment, having forgotten what else he was going to say. "Er, well…" he paused, honestly trying to remember. As he was having no luck, he decided to reiterate his initial warning. "Just stay away from France for about a week! And put some pants on for a change, while you're at it." And with that, he turned and left the room.

Italy was about to say something when Romano started cursing loudly, having found Prussia lurking just outside the room. Instead of talking, the younger Italian nation listened as Prussia offered to show him to the door and Romano yelling at him the whole way. Reluctantly, Italy approached the pile of his discarded clothing beside the couch he had slept on. As he began to put them on, he heard a faint noise. Pausing his actions to strain his ears and listen, he turned bright red as he made out a faint purring that sounded something like "chigigi~". As he turned to the doorway, he spotted Germany standing there, giving a confused look down the hall before he noticed Italy looking at him.

"What was that?" he asked. "It sounded like Romano."

Italy shook his head. "I-it was nothing! J-just something that he does, ve!"

Germany didn't seem to believe him. At least, not the "nothing" part. He approached the smaller nation and, rather roughly, took hold of his curl, looking at it curiously between his fingers. "He made that noise when my brother grabbed this…"

Italy squirmed, turning a shade redder. "D-don't touch that!" Both of them were startled by how demanding that had come out. Italy took a step away from Germany as his expression went from surprise to irritation at being ordered by the little nation. "P-please…" Italy added, trying to make up for it.

"Just what IS that?" Germany demanded.

Italy looked at his feet. He wanted so badly for something to happen to distract the German nation. Unfortunately, this was not going to happen, and he felt he may as well come out with the secret to his and his brother's matching stray hairs just too finally get people to stop touching them! As he gathered up his courage to speak, he felt Germany's intense stare burning into him.

"W-well...you see…th-this curl…" he pointed at it, as if it weren't obvious enough as to what he meant. "I-it's kind of special. U-um…"

"Out with it!" Germany snapped, growing impatient.

"I-it's…" he took a deep breath to steady himself, prepared to just say it and get it over and done with. "These curls are an erogenous zone, and it's very uncomfortable when you touch them! Especially when you're really rough, ve!"

Now it was Germany's turn to go red in the face. Italy's outburst hit him like a ton of bricks; and the memories of every time he had ever taken hold of that curl made his stomach do weird flips. To think that such a simple strand of hair would have such an effect on his friend! The weird feeling faded ever so slightly as he began to think of just how weak this made the half-dressed man in front of him.

"S-so…" Italy tried, having lost his moment of vigor. "Don't touch it, please. Ve~ It's really embarrassing..."

Germany shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Right…I won't touch it anymore."

Italy looked down at his feet, which were still bare. For some strange reason, there was something he really wanted to say to that, but he wasn't entirely sure he really wanted to voice it. Germany seemed to pick up on this nervousness.

"Are you alright?" he asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah…" Italy replied. Then another thought struck him. "Ve, Germany, lean down for me a little."

Germany, a bit concerned but curious nonetheless, did so. The moment he did, Italy smiled and jumped on him, pressing their lips together. The taller nation was caught off guard, but wasn't given the time to sort out what was going on when Italy let him go and grinned at him.

"Germany's blushing!" he cried childishly.

The man was about to respond to that with a mixture of anger and embarrassment when they both heard a loud slam come from the front of the house. They checked just in time to spot Prussia running from the front step. Neither of them, however, could see the enraged and heart-broken expression on his face.

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Aw, poor Prussia! After reading my last paragraph there over again, it makes me want to give him a hug! Oh well, he takes us to the next link in this chain, so if you're like me and are worried about him, don't be! Amazing things happen when new chapters are added to fanfictions!

I love reviews, they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside! So please review if you liked it!


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